


Bad First Impressions

by RiftOdyssey



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Trent Barreta & Chuck Taylor - Freeform, mentions of other wrestlers, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25373614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiftOdyssey/pseuds/RiftOdyssey
Summary: Chuck Taylor wasn't very optimistic. I mean, if your soulmate's first words to you were that basic you wouldn't be optimistic either.
Relationships: Orange Cassidy | JC Ryder/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 23
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter One

Chuck had practically begged his parents to let him stay at Trent's house for a sleepover on his eleventh birthday, staying up all night eating ice cream and candy. All eyes were on him, waiting to see what would appear of Chuck's wrist in the morning. Sue, bless her heart, had tried her best to make them go to bed, but even she was excited. The house was buzzing with impatience. These were going to be the first words Chuck’s soulmate said to him, that was a big event in anybody's life. As the hours slipped by, his thoughts raced.

"I think it's gonna be funny." Trent said through a mouthful of sweets.

"Do you?"

"Yeah, Mom says that people's first words, like, reflect their soulmates personality, you know? So it's gonna be funny."

"What if my soulmate _sucks_ _?_ " Chuck asked nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"Like they used some big number that I have to memorize or something?" Trent scowled into his bag of candy.

"Ugh, like they use the first 100 digits of pi?"

"Yeah, or some boring quote from a book! I don't think I'd want them as a soulmate at all." The two sat in silence on the kitchen counter. Chuck swirled his spoon through his ice cream, a pit forming in his stomach.

"What if I don't have a soulmate? What if they're dead, or they just don't exist?" Chuck murmured.

"There's no way. Dude," Trent stopped and turned towards him. "Trust me, your soulmate's out there." Chuck gave him a small smile, half-buried in his dessert.

"Thanks dude."

"No problem."

"Just imagine how she's gonna feel when she sees her arm!" The birthday boy winced a little.

There were billions of people in the world. At some point they had to get creative if they wanted their soulmate to recognize them. _“My dog can whistle Beethoven’s second symphony with his eyes crossed”_ wasn’t very funny, but it was strange enough for Chuck to feel comfortable that no one else was saying it. He’d started saying it about a year ago. It felt strange, but exchanging these bizarre greetings with adults made him feel mature, too. He was sure he’d come up with something better some day, but until then, this wasn’t a terrible option. Chuck sighed. The more he thought about what his soulmate would be like, the blurrier she got in his mind. First words were all well and good, but the idea of spending his life with some girl just because of them made him feel strange. If only everything would just stop until he was ready...

The clock struck midnight. It was enough to make Chuck want to vomit— in excitement, probably. The two jumped down from the counter they were sitting on to face one another. Trent covered his eyes.

“Tell me when I can look!” He bounced up and down in excitement.

Chuck took a deep breath. _Calm down, this is only gonna change the rest of your life, right?_ The newly eleven year old boy pulled up his sleeve and looked down at his wrist.

“What is it? What is it?” Trent asked, fighting the urge to peek. His excitement turned to confusion as he waited for a reply. Chuck stared down at his arm like he was willing it to change. Finally, he turned to face Trent, who was peeking anyway. Both of them stared at the mark.

There was a reason for having your own greeting. If everyone went around saying ‘hello’ like they used to, no one would ever find their soulmates, right?

So what sort of person would just say "Hey"?


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends is hard.

This was such a stupid idea, hanging out at some coffee shop with people he didn't even know. But he was already here. Chuck could hear the sound of Trent's friends outside, laughing at some joke. He stepped up to the counter. The woman behind it looked pretty tired, but she still smiled as he came over.

"The alphabet could basically be put in any order. Hi, what can I get you?"

"My pony Johnny got run over on my seventh birthday and died. Could I get a flat white?"

"What size?"

"I don't know, a medium?"

"You got it." Chuck fiddled with his wallet as the barista set to work on his order. As she worked, she called back over her shoulder.

"Is that a real story? That pony thing, I mean."

"Yeah, the ground froze so my dad couldn't bury it. I found it frozen standing up in the barn the next day."

"Oh my god, that's awful!"

"Eh. Shit happens, man." He lamented.

"You said it. Here you go." The woman—Jana, it said on her name tag— handed him his drink. As he left, Chuck left an extra dollar in the tip jar. He was a gentleman after all. 

The weather outside didn't make things any better. Chuck immediately regretted buying a hot drink. Now faced with the humid summer weather and sunshine that was already giving him a headache, he tugged at his long sleeve shirt, trying to let his skin breathe. He walked over, found his seat at the table, and settled down. Across the table, Trent gave him a small wave. 

Trent told him that hanging out with everyone would make him feel more included. And sure, he'd shown up, but seeing everyone laughing and having fun was almost worse. He took a sip of his coffee. These weren’t his friends; they were Trent’s. And he had no idea what Trent saw in him—it sure as hell wasn’t what Chuck was seeing.

“Hey!” Startled out of his thoughts, Chuck turned to see who it was as a young blonde woman walked up behind him, coffee in hand. The man sitting next to him turned as well, smiling as he saw her approach.

“Babe! Guys, this Penelope. Penelope, these are the guys, and-” Trent’s friend paused and looked over at Chuck. “-What’s your name again?”

“My pony Johnny got run over on my seventh birthday and died. I’m Chuck.” He supplied. Penelope gave him a halfhearted wave from behind her latte.

Chuck shifted over as she sat between him and her boyfriend and took a long sip from his drink.

_Hey._ Chuck considered himself pretty lazy. Lazy, rude, arrogant, and frankly, inconsiderate. But it was common fucking courtesy to say a proper hello, wasn’t it? In her defense, he didn't know if that guy was her soulmate. Maybe she didn't feel the need to say hello properly, or she just thought no one would mind. But Chuck minded. Do unto others and all that.

Curious, he tried to look over to see what was written on her wrist. She was wearing a t-shirt, so if he could just get a better look-

Penelope leaned back, colliding with Chuck. With a plastic crunch, he felt his coffee spill across his face and shirt. Penelope looked at him in shock.

“Ohmygod! Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s just— yeah, I’m fine. Here, I got it.” Chuck pressed the shitty napkins into his shirt, half of them soaking through and sticking to him. Trent got up to help him with some more napkins, the two awkwardly sliding coffee foam off of his chest and legs. Chuck looked up at the people around him, some looking on with curiosity, others continuing to talk among themselves.

“Hey,” Chuck asked him quietly. “Could I get a ride home? I have work in an hour or two anyway.”

“Yeah, dude. Don’t worry about it. Go get in the car, I’ll be there in a sec.”

Still sticky, he shuffled over to the car park. Over his shoulder, he could hear the caring protests of Trent’s friends as he picked up his things. Chuck sat shotgun, his forehead stuck against the window. His hands folded in his lap.

“I think I’ve got some gym clothes in the back if you want them.” Trent offered as he sat down and started the car. Chuck reached behind him until he found the gym bag and pulled out a shirt. He looked over the t-shirt, eventually sighing and taking off his long sleeve to replace it. The shirt was fine, it didn't even smell that bad. But seeing that single word etched on to his wrist made him groan a little. Trent watched him try to get comfortable in his seat.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Kip’s girlfriend.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault."

“I mean, he’s a dick anyway, I don’t really know why we still hang out.” The two men drove in silence for a bit, Chuck brushing his wrist every once in a while, looking to Trent for some kind of reaction before finally giving up.

“Man, people always get so annoyed when you ask them to say hello properly! Like, I know it’s a pain, but we all do it. Why can’t you?" Trent nodded in agreement. "And then when they see my arm, they’re all like ‘Oh, I’m not your soulmate!’ Yeah, I hope not, bitch!”

“Yeah, man.” He affirmed. Chuck shoved his head into his hands.

"I know it's stupid and I know it's not a big deal, I just... I don't know."

Chuck watched the shadow of his building rise over them as the car slowed to a halt. Trent drummed his hands on the wheel, turning to face Chuck.

“I’ll pick you up later for work, got it?”

“Nah, I’ll just walk.” He assured. "Oh, uh, Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, man. For everything. I appreciate it." Trent smiled, reaching over to give his friend a quick hug before he went up the stairs to his apartment. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck Taylor heads to work at the end of a very long day.

Chuck tossed his dirty shirt onto the couch as he stepped inside. Walter scrambled out from the next room, wagging his tail. He gave the little guy a quick pat to say hello, before jumping in the shower.

Turning on the tap, everything finally started slowing down. His thoughts finally stopped racing. He took a deep breath, breathing in the steam from the hot water as he ran his fingers through his hair. Every second he could savor under that water he took. 

It was six-ish now. Work started in an hour or so. He could probably walk or catch the bus if he was feeling lazy. Even after using shampoo (which was mostly water at this point) he still smelled like coffee, but it had become less noticeable. Accepting that he had to get out of the shower eventually, Chuck turned off the water and tried to dry off. He sighed. The idea of leaving the house again wasn't very appealing. He threw on Trent's shirt—it wasn't like he could give it back today. Besides, it wouldn't be the first of Trent's clothes he'd stolen.

Walter jumped up onto Chuck's lap as he sat down on the couch. Stupid little guy, didn't he know his dad was trying to be in a bad mood? He opened his phone, scrolling around for anything worthwhile. Not that there was: there never was. Even so, the light of the screen flashing in his face made Chuck wince a little. Soon, he found himself easing back into the pillows behind him. He had an hour, right?

Maybe he could just shut his eyes for just... five minutes...

* * *

Chuck came to his senses with Walter licking his face. Gently nudging the little rascal off of his chest, he tried sitting up. Aching pain seized up his back as he looked around, trying to discern the time of day.

Time.

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Chuck grabbed his phone and pushed through the glare of the light. _7:30_. He scrambled up from his seat, wincing as his aching joints threatened to fail on him. Grabbing a jacket, he sped out of his apartment and onto the street. With the bus long gone, he began to run. His commute wasn't too far, but soon Chuck could feel his pulse beating through his face. _God, he was out of shape._ There was a thin line between having an apartment and not on his salary, and he wasn't about to find out how long he could balance it: he needed this job.

The neon lights of the gas station surrounded him as he passed the automatic doors and threw open the back door. Practically diving to his register, his arm caught the penny tray. The plastic container made a cracking noise as it hit the ground and the change inside went flying. He ducked down—grabbing the tray and quickly slamming it back down on the counter—pennies be damned.

He snapped back upright, looking around wide-eyed for anyone who saw him dash in. His hearing finally starting to clear up as he caught his breath, Chuck heard a brief chuckle from one of the aisles. Sure enough, as he looked up he could see a blond man about his age past the fridges. His face was ducking into the collar of his denim jacket—stifling a laugh. The customer caught his eye—and just as quickly lost it, covering his face jokingly with his hands as he walked further into the aisle. Chuck's face flushed red as he tried to get his bearings.

Work... Working... Sales tax... Since when was focusing on work this hard? Chuck pulled out his phone to check the time only to be faced with a black screen. Great.

A quiet ding sounded as a woman strode in through the door, chatting loudly on the phone.

"I _know!_ The nerve of that woman. Honestly, I don't want people like her in our schools. At _all! Really!_ Does she think she'll be teaching my sons that nonsense? I don't think so..." She began grabbing snacks from the rack as she talked. Chuck sighed as the woman blabbed on.

Light blue movement flicked past from behind the shelves. As the woman kept on shouting, the customer from before pulled his hands from out of his pockets, sticking them over his ears. Chuck snorted, barely saving face as the woman turned to him incredulously. After a long moment of silence between them, she finally returned to her verbal assault. The man gave Chuck an eyebrow raise from behind his sunglasses.

Once her shopping was complete, Chuck dutifully scanned each item, watching as she topped off the pile with a handful of lottery tickets, still berating the poor soul on the other end of the line.

"My pony Johnny got run over on my seventh birthday and died, that'll be—"

" _What?_ " She exclaimed, pulling the phone away from her ear.

"That'll be $24.98."

"No, before that, you were saying something!"

"Oh, I was just saying hi." The woman scoffed at that.

"Sorry hun," She said, raising her hand to show off a dramatic, diamond-studded ring. "I'm taken."

"That's $24.98, ma'am." Chuck deadpanned. The smug smile on the woman's face dropped, she scanned her card. 

"Why do they hire you people? So inconsiderate..." Her heeled shoes snapped against the gas station floor as she left. 

_You people._ The woman hadn't meant much by it except as an insult. Still, Chuck couldn't help but rub at the single word written on his wrist. Being decent wasn't a crime, no matter how many people seemed to believe it. It wasn't determined by how lazy your soulmate was, either.

Chuck's hands raked down his face as he let out a long yawn. Drew usually left a half-finished energy drink around here somewhere. He took a look around: no luck. For the first time in his life, it looked like his coworker had cleaned up after himself. He could feel his sanity draining. Chuck looked back out across the store. Again, his eyes caught his lone customer. He stood at the far end of the room in full denim and sunglasses. He wondered why their sunglasses were still on in the middle of the night... 

The man meandered through the aisles for several minutes, hands in his pockets as he scanned his choices. Finally, he picked up a small bag of Swedish Fish. Chuck offered him a small wave as he made his way to the counter and handed over the bag.

The man smiled and moved to take his wallet out of his pocket.

“Hey.” He said, not looking up.

Chuck stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the sweets. He stared dead at the customer.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The man seemed surprised at Chuck’s question. He tried to respond, only to get cut off.

“For _fuck's sake!"_ Words poured out of him without thought. "You... you good-for-nothing, acid-washed little bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you? Your soulmate's gonna spend their entire lives looking for you- their entire fucking lives! And you! Your lazy ass is gonna leave them heartbroken and alone, just because you can’t be bothered to properly say hello! Fuck you!” Chuck gasped one last breath, cutting himself short before he said anything else stupid. He hoped the customer couldn’t see how watery his eyes were getting from behind their sunglasses.

For a moment the customer didn’t move. Then, ever so slightly, his shoulders sank. His hands fell at his sides. Silence fell, and for a moment both of them stood still, unable to continue.

Coming to his senses, Chuck took the candy from the counter. A solitary beep rang out between the two men as he scanned it.

“That’ll be $4.48, sir,” He murmured. Carefully, the customer pulled a five-dollar bill from his front pocket. Chuck took it, hyper-aware of how his fingers brushed the man's palm after he'd been screaming at him only seconds before. 

He was losing his job for sure.

Change. $4.48. 48 out of 100, 62? No, 52? He desperately tried to look calm as he scrambled for change in the register. Finally, he turned back to face the man in front of him. Strangely, he wasn't waiting for his change.

Instead, he had pushed the sleeve of his jean jacket up past his forearm, revealing a massive block of text that wrapped around his arm. Chuck studied it, trying to catch the words as the customer’s arm dipped slightly, a sense of dread washing over him.

 _Entire lives—_  
 _Heartbroken and alone—_  
 _Good-for-nothing, acid-washed little bitch—_  
Oh no.

The man's pale arm starkly contrasted the angry tirade splayed across it, his whole stupid outburst marking it. Chuck stared in horror at his soulmate.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is overwhelming.

Trent had come as soon as his friend called. It was half-past one as he started the car and made his way across town. Any nightlife had come and gone hours ago, leaving him alone on the empty road.

He parked outside the apartment and made his way up the stairs with his spare keys in hand. He threw open the door.

"Chuck?" He called out. Footsteps made their way down the hallway as Chuck emerged from his bedroom. He looked like shit—with an empty glass in his hand that seemed a likely suspect. His red, glassy eyes stared up at the man in his doorway.

"Trent?" He spoke aloud. After a moment he stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around his friend in a miserable embrace. "Thank god. I fucked up, I really fucked up," He mumbled into Trent's shirt.

"What happened?" Trent asked patiently, guiding Chuck over to the couch. Carefully, he took the glass from the tired man's hands and tucked it away.

"I found him," The Chuck mumbled. "I found him and I _fucked it all up._ " Found him? Found—Trent's breath caught in his chest.

"Found who?"

* * *

The two men walked out of the gas station, neither spoke. They rounded the corner of the building, out of the lights before sitting down against the brick siding. Chuck could feel the broken ground pushing into the palms of his hands. A late night's breeze chilled the air. He tried to find something to say.

"I'm sorry," He finally said. The man sitting next to him—his soulmate—said nothing. No emotions made their way past his sunglasses in the dark.

"What's your name?" He tried again.

"Cassidy," Cassidy responded. That was a pretty name, Chuck thought.

There was a long pause.

"My name is Chuck Taylor: I'm a Taurus and I like long walks on the beach," He joked. A smile slowly spread across Cassidy's face as he let out a warm chuckle. Relieved, Chuck smiled too.

Cassidy gently took off and folded his glasses. He tucked them into his shirt collar and looked to Chuck as his laughter quietened, revealing two startling blue eyes. They didn't look sad... they just looked. Cassidy watched him and it was like he could look straight through him. Chuck stared back, trying to understand any part of him, anything he might have felt at that moment. He studied Cassidy's eyes like they were paintings. Maybe they were—maybe if he looked deep enough he could make sense of them.

Chuck felt Cassidy's hand brush up against his.

He flinched away, and Cassidy pulled back. Both of their faces betrayed panic.

* * *

"Wait, you left?" Trent shrieked. Chuck winced at his own stupidity, wrapping his arms more tightly around the pillow in his lap. Trent shouldn't have had to drive all the way here for this. He could fuck his life up on his own.

"I don't know... I panicked! He was there, and I was there, and... I don't know!"

"Okay, let me get this straight: You met your soulmate. He tried to hold your hand, so you got scared and abandoned him  at a gas station?"

"Abandoned? It's not like he couldn't leave! He's fine," Chuck retorted, "Imagine if he just stayed there, and Drew ran into him on his next shift. That would be pretty funny, wouldn't it?"

"Stop making jokes, dude."

"And then what? Cry about my feelings again?" He cringed and threw the pillow at his friend. Trent grabbed it and smacked him over the head with it.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stop it. See? This is what I'm talking about! You're refusing to talk about it!"

"Broad strokes from Mr. Black Box—I've known you since third grade and I only know you 'cause I talk to your mom." Chuck threw himself back onto his couch—one of two. Why would anyone need two couches? His eyes stung. It was so late that it was early and he was tired, so tired. Not that he could get any sleep.

"What have I done?" He cringed.

"Something stupid," Trent said. "You have to go back." 

"It's too late," He replied. Turning his head, he could see the night sky trying to pry its way between the curtains. "Even if he was still there, why would he want anything to do with the guy that ruined his life?"

Everything that night felt like a blur, some strange hallucination he'd fallen into. But it also felt like he was awake for the first time in his life. He couldn't close his eyes if he wanted to. The pit in his stomach grew. Trent was right.

"This guy, what's his name again?" Trent asked.

"Cassidy," Chuck supplied.

"Cassidy. He's your soulmate! I mean, come on—if anyone out there could forgive you, it's him," Chuck only scoffed, burying his face in the cushions. "Don't you want to be forgiven?" Trent asked.

"Of course I do."

"Well, what are you gonna lose by going back? If he's there, what do you have to lose by trying to make it up?"

"My dignity? My sanity? I mean, what am I gonna do if my own soulmate rejects me?" Chuck lamented. There was silence for a moment, then a sigh as Trent stood up, the couch shifting under him.

"I don't know, man. What did he do?"

The sound of the front door clicking shut broke Chuck from his stupor as he sat up in his living room, alone again.


	5. Chapter Five

Marko just wanted to buy some Skittles.

Walking back through the automatic doors of the gas station for the second time, he looked around for anyone who might be out on their break. His eyes caught the lone car parked outside.

He stepped up to the window. Strangely, the car was off—there was no music playing either. The window was cracked about an inch or two. Marko peered in.

The keys sat hanging from the ignition. A man in a denim jacket and aviators sat lifeless in the front seat. Whether he was asleep or just sitting very, very still, Marko wasn’t sure. Their face looked bleak. He waited outside the car for a couple of seconds more, hoping to see any sort of movement. Nothing. 

He knocked on the glass.

“Hey, do you work here? Wait, shit, I mean—sorry, I didn't say hello first—” The man in the car gave Marko the faintest of head turns, but nothing else.

“I’m not trying to report you or anything," He continued. "I was just wondering if I could get some of the candy from by the register? I looked for someone inside but no one was in there.” 

Again, there was no response from the stranger. As Marko began shuffling away, the front door of the car swung open. The man stepped out and began to walk inside. Marko followed.

The two made their way into the store. Marko spotted a bag of Swedish Fish on the countertop and grabbed them, as well as a bag of Skittles and a soda nearby. The denim-clad man pulled a twenty from his pocket and tucked it under the lottery tickets.

“All set,” He said. Marko looked up at him.

“You’re serious?” He asked. The man nodded.

“Sweet! Thanks, man!” Marko looked over his spoils happily, only for his logic to catch up to him. Again, he looked up at the stranger.

“You don’t work here, do you?” He asked.

“Nah, but I know the guy who does. It’s all good.”

“Oh, okay,” Marko said, unsure. “Thanks for the candy. I’m Marko—what’s your name?”

“Cassidy,” Cassidy said. “What are you doing up, anyway? It’s pretty late to be getting candy."

“Dude, I’m a grown-ass man, I don’t have a bedtime. Also, it’s already, like, four in the morning.”

"What?" Cassidy looked outside, taking off his glasses. Sure enough, he could see the sky slowly brightening into shades of navy blue. Cassidy let out a sigh, and Marko watched as he seemed to Conversation stopped short as Cassidy stared out in front of him.

"Are... you okay?" Marko asked after a moment.

"Bad day," Cassidy managed. The room grew still. The buzz of the fridges and lights grew heavier. Marko sat in the uncomfortable white noise, hoping for anything to break the silence even barely so that he could gently step away.

Still, he hadn't expected the sound of shattering glass to break it. Marko looked out the window while Cassidy rushed outside.

Through the glass, Marko could see a man standing at the door to Cassidy's car holding a bat. He was reaching through the now busted window as Cassidy ran into view.

The thief quickly threw the car door open and dove inside. He turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Before it could close, Cassidy wedged himself into the open door.

Marko tried to see what was happening, but Cassidy's body obscured the fight. A moment later, he watched as Cassidy got thrown from the car, his head bouncing off the pavement as the door slammed shut above him.

Marko ran out into the parking lot as the car reversed. Too late to really stop them, he threw his soda at the side window as it drove away, letting out a very manly shriek as the can burst on the ground, spraying up at him. As the car disappeared on the horizon, Marko ran to check on the unconscious man.

"Holy shit! Are you okay?"

Cassidy slowly came to, sitting up just enough to see the absent car, before lying back down and taking another moment to collect himself. 

"Ow," He muttered. "Did we get him?"

Cassidy grunted, able to pull himself to his feet with some help from Marko. Only the light emanating from the gas pumps made its way to the dark corner of the empty lot.

"Ah shit," He muttered, dusting himself off. He reached into his pocket, struggling for a moment to pull out his glasses. The frames were bent and the lenses split near the edges. Carefully, he unfolded them and put them on, shielding his face. He stared out into the street.

"Dude, I'm so sorry about your car." Marko apologized.

"Nah, it was just a rental," Cassidy reassured. "Pretty sure I got the insurance for it. He did get my stuff though. My phone, too." Something about the calmness in his voice made Marko uneasy.

"Your stuff?" He asked gently.

"I had some clothes," Cassidy continued. "I was up here to see family. Clothes, toothbrush, I think there was a watch in there..."

"You think you could crash with your family?" Marko asked.

"Probably not."

"Probably not?"

"No," Cassidy said, more certain than before. "No, I don't think... no." 

A car passed the gas station, then another. Then a couple more after that. The two men stood and watched them pass. The sky was blue, like dark ink on wet paper. The day's heat had settled into a humid night. Marko looked down at the now half-empty soda can on the ground, then back at Cassidy.

"You could stay with us for a bit." There was a long pause.

"Us?" Cassidy finally asked, not looking.

"Yeah, my roommates wouldn't mind, I don't think." Cassidy turned, still not quite looking at Marko.

"You sure?" He asked again. Marko nodded.

Cassidy didn't respond, except by putting his hands in his pockets. After a moment, he began to walk. Marko followed.

"It's not far, I promise."


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marko tries to make Cassidy feel at home.

"Hey Dad, this is Cassidy. He's staying over," Marko said, walking into the apartment. His new friend walked in behind him.

"I'm not your Dad," His roommate replied, looking up from where he sat on the sofa, reading his book. " _Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much._ Nice to meet you, Cassidy."

Cassidy simply nodded, any reaction he may have had covered by his sunglasses. Marko tugged on his jacket and led him further into the apartment, to a small but well-kept bedroom. Cassidy hazarded a glance one door further and saw piles of clothes and lopsided posters in what he could assume was Marko's room.

"You can sleep in here. There's a bathroom at the end of the hall if you need it," Marko said. "Do you need anything? I'm gonna go play GTA if you wanna come with."

"Nah, I'm good," Cassidy looked around the space.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He gently sat down on the side of the bed.

"Okay then." Marko slowly backed out of the room and felt the door click shut before returning to the living room to sit down on the sofa. He plopped down next to his roommate, still reading his book on medieval history, and booted up his game.

"Poor guy," Austin mumbled.

"Yeah, his car just got stolen."

"Really? Talk about being dealt a bad hand."

"No kidding," Marko laughed. "What were you talking about?"

"His arm," He supplied.

"His arm? What about it?" Marko asked absentmindedly.

"Those first words, they cover his whole forearm." 

"What about it? Did they say anything bad?"

"I couldn't see all of it, but it insinuates some things."

"That doesn't make him some sort of movie villain, though."

"Of course, _I_ understand that. But most people take one look at an arm like his and make up their opinion. You should know that." Austin returned to his book. Marko felt guilt creeping into his mind, even as he tried to focus on shooting fictional strippers and running from the cops.

He knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but knowing how people looked down on and laughed at him only made him feel more sorry, as a brand-new layer of misery added itself to the night's events.

Hours passed as Marko played, time only marked by the gentle turning of pages beside him. Late-night video games and reading had become more and more common as the summer heat made their shared quarters unbearable in the day. Austin occasionally reached out, attempting to snatch some Swedish Fish from under Marko's nose, only to be slapped away by his ever-vigilant roommate.

However, his focus only stretched as far as the television, as he failed to hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, only alerted to the arrival of his other roommate as he opened his bedroom door with an emphatic:

_"What the fuck?"_

"Shhhhh!" Marko shouted, running over. "Don't wake him up, he's staying over."

"In my room?"

"Well yeah, I have to sleep in mine!"

"Funny, so do I!" Jack argued.

"Well can't you sleep on the couch?" Marko looked up pleadingly and watched as his friend's face slowly broke in tired disappointment. Both looked over to the couch and Austin closed his book with a resounding sigh.

"I'll get you some blankets." Marko's roommates went off in search of bedding as he watched on. Carefully, he turned at peeked through Jack's bedroom door.

Inside, he saw Cassidy's denim jacket hung on the bed frame, the man curled tightly around a bundle of pillow and blankets beside him. His face seemed calm and gentle—and for the first time since meeting him, Marko knew the look was genuine.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck, Marko, and Cassidy have breakfast.

"No, I don't need you to cover my shift—I need _your_ shift," Chuck tried to explain. "Yeah, tonight at eight?"

It had been a rough night, to say the least. Chuck half-believed he'd been dreaming when he woke up. Sitting on the phone now, he wished he hadn't got up. 

"No, you can keep the pay. Listen—just do me a solid, alright?" He sighed. "Thank you. Alright, love you, bye."

Shuffling into the kitchen, Chuck turned on his coffee maker. The awful groan of the machine only acted to worsen his headache, and he knew the caffeine wouldn't either. Still, anything that could pick him up would be worth it in the end.

Proud of his early morning productivity, he texted Trent:

_Hey dude_

_Yeah?_

_I figured out how to see Cassidy again!_

Sweet how _?_

_We met when I was at work at 8 right? I_

_got Drew to sub_ _me in for work today so_

_if he shows up again when he last saw_

_me, I'll be there!_

_Ok_

_Ok?_

_Well you could just go there at 8 you don't_

_need to be working_

_Chuck?_

Chuck let his head bang against the counter. Trent was right. Fuck, that's five hours of his night gone.

The coffee was garbage. He needed something stronger.

* * *

"Good morning, princess," Marko said, attempting to sound like he'd been awake for more than five minutes as Cassidy slipped into the kitchen.

The sunglasses hooked around the man's collar caught the noonday sun as Marko pulled himself onto the counter and began rummaging through the cabinets.

"Want some cereal?" He asked. Cassidy nodded and sat down at a small table by the window. He smiled to himself, noting how all three seats and placemats were set. Marko clambered back down and grabbed bowls, pouring one bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and one franken-bowl of the leftover cereal from three or so bags, passing Cassidy the sane-looking one and grabbing milk from the fridge.

"Got any OJ?" Cassidy hazarded.

" _B_ _oom_ ," Marko tossed him a bottle of Tropicana before finally sitting down. "So... what's the plan?" He asked.

"Plan?" Cassidy questioned. "I already called the rental place."

"I meant, like, today. We could stay in, but I know this bar downtown that just opened up and Jack was gonna go there with Joey anyway, do you wanna join?"

"Uh," Cassidy tried to process the jumble of words Marko barely got out of his mouth in order. "Like, for drinks?"

"Yeah, or sodas if you're straightedge or something." Cassidy raised an eyebrow before breaking into a giggle, ducking his head as he tried to regain his composure. Looking back up at Marko's confused face, his smile dropped.

"You're serious."

"No shit?"

"Why, you wanna hang out or something?"

"Of course!"

"You don't even know me."

"Then let me know you." Marko watched as Cassidy's face twisted in a mixture of confusion and upset, before he leaned back, stretching against the back of the chair and letting his head lull. There was a moment of silence before his chest rose and fell in what must have been a pained groan before sitting back up. His face was calm, the stress washed from his face as fast as it had arrived.

"Okay, let's go," He said, as plainly as the sky was blue.

"What?" Marko asked, taken slightly aback.

"C'mon," Cassidy pulled his glasses off and attempted to unfold them with one hand as he stood up.

Marko, realizing it was now or never, ran off to grab his phone.

"Hey, Jungle Boy!" He shouted down the hall.

_"What?"_

"Call Joey! We're leaving now!" From his room, Marko watched Jack run into the living room, still pulling on his tank top, and let a smile creep across his face. 

Grabbing his keys, his friends waited by the door.

"Jungle Boy?" Cassidy questioned.

"Long story..." Jack managed.

And with that, the three of them set off.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck needed something to take his mind off of things.

This wasn't day drinking. This was noon drinking, totally different. Not any less pathetic, Chuck thought, nursing his second so-so margarita. Clouds had begun to form, low and dark in the sky, so he could almost imagine it was night. Each time he blinked, the world faded away and he could imagine a bar just like this, a couple of years back when he and Trent didn't even question going out for drinks every night. Back when everything wasn't so complicated and heavy, sitting next to each other, margaritas in hand. It didn't attract many girls, but that didn't matter then, the two of them were enough.

The bar he leaned on felt familiar. For a new bar, the wood already seeped with alcohol, you could smell it. In the back, the booths were stuffed with fun, trendy people, the type that had thriving social lives. The walls were sparse, with 'local art' filling some of the more egregious blank spaces. A quiet, conversational tone filled the bar. A baseball game played on the overhead TV. It was bad, Chuck thought. Probably. He didn't watch baseball, but this seemed pretty bad. Kinda like this margarita.

Chuck felt exposed. He looked at the stool next to him, still empty. Trent stepped out a couple of minutes ago. He wasn't much of a smoker, but maybe this week had gotten to him. Still, Chuck worried. Where was he? Leaving his coat on the stool and taking a final sip of his drink, Chuck made his way outside. Standing by the corner, he could see Trent talking with someone with long dirty blond hair, scraggly facial hair, and a jacket that made Chuck's eyes hurt.

"And that's how I got this scar," The man said, wiggling his thumb, pressing it to the other side of his palm. "Doctors said I'd never get movement back. Look at that!"

"Hey babe," Chuck said, sidling up next to his designated driver. Trent ruffled his hair, not paying him much attention. He had a pack of cigarettes in hand, but only the other man was smoking. Chuck took one and lit it, more of an attempt to join in than actually wanting one.

"My pony Johnny got run over on my seventh birthday and died," He turned to Trent. "Do you just know everyone in town?" He asked jokingly.

"No, we were just chatting. What did you say your name was?" Trent asked.

 _"It's Britney, bitch._ I'm Joey," He answered. "Just here waitin' for my boys to arrive." There was an earnestness in his voice that made Chuck giggle.

"Your boys?"

"Yeah! Marko, Jungle Boy, Dino... Man, uh, Guy I Haven't Met Yet! The boys!"

_"D-Dino Man?"_

"That one got away from me, I'll admit." 

Trent turned to Chuck. "Did you already finish that drink?" He asked.

"Yeah, I wanted to check up on you. I was lonely." Trent tossed Joey his cigarettes and picked up his stuff.

"'Kay. I'm gonna go get some water before we head out, do you want anything?"

"Water sounds good," Chuck sighed. It had been an exhausting morning. "You deserve a drink for putting up with all my shit."

"Yeah, I do." He patted Chuck on the shoulder before returning to the bar.

Chuck looked over at Mr. Eyesore. He nodded. Joey nodded. He let himself deflate in a moment of self-pity, snubbing his cigarette on the wall.

"He's really chill," Joey commented, gesturing over to the bar. Chuck nodded. "Are you two, you know?" He gestured to his wrist.

"Oh-no. No, we're not," Chuck assured. "Yeah, no. Trent's great, but he's not—" 

"Hey. All good, just curious," Joey promised. Chuck let his head knock against the wall, it made the back of his eyes feel weird.

"I wish he would start dating someone, you know? Hanging around with me, let's be real, it doesn't exactly help his chances." This earned a small smile from Joey. It felt like a pity smile.

"I don't know, he seemed pretty high on you back here. He was talking about you... something about scaring kids or something?"

"Oh my god, don't ever repeat that," Chuck said, suddenly mortified. "I don't like making children cry, I fucking swear." Joey busted up at that.

"Chuck!" Trent's voice sounded out from the door.

"Ah, shit—coming!" He ran off, leaving Joey in stitches.

* * *

Trent lifted a glass of ice water as Chuck sat back down. There was a straw in it, and a fun pink and blue umbrella. "You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah?" Chuck answered, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno, man. You've been all over the place this week."

 _"Oh hey, yeah, how are you doing—you're wrong. You're doing terrible."_ Chuck joked.

"I didn't mean that in a bad way, I know everything's been weird recently. I just wanted to check-in."

"'Course you did, ya big softie," Chuck playfully nudged him. After a moment, Trent's worried look softened. 

Chuck sipped his drink, making a face over the rim of the glass. Trent smiled that head-empty smile that always put his mind at ease. There was something especially nice about it now, after all the stress they'd been under. He'd even been able to convince Trent to buy him some ice cream at the store on the way here, but even that hadn't felt as good as it should have. Being here, it was like the world had slowed down. He'd needed this.

Rain began to fall outside. Chuck listened to the sound as it rolled over the rooftop and watched as Trent's eyes drifted off and behind him to the windows. Behind him, the door opened, letting in a brush of the first cool air Chuck had felt in months. The feeling ran up his spine and seeped through his shirt. 

"Orange?" Trent stood up from his seat, pointing past Chuck. He turned, looking over his shoulder at the people walking in. There, he saw Joey and a man with similarly wild hair. Then, beside them, he saw a man in acid-washed denim—one hand tucked into his pocket, the other lazily pointing back at Trent, a bewildered half-smile on his face.

"Trent?" Cassidy asked. Chuck felt lightheaded.

_"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."_


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck has drinks with a couple of new friends.

Part of him knew this was coming. Literally running from your problems wasn't ever going to be a permanent solution, but it was supposed to buy him more time than this.

The smile quickly left Cassidy's face, blanching at the unexpected reunion.

"Chuck, this is Orange! We met when—Chuck?" Trent looked beside him, to where Chuck stood at a loss for words, then Cassidy. "Do you two know each other?" He asked.

"Kind of," Chuck offered. Trent only looked more confused. Almost in sync, he and Cassidy rolled up their sleeves. All parties looked over, eyes on the newly revealed block of text.

"Oh shit! I forgot your name's Cassidy!" Trent realized. Both of them gave in to exasperated sighs.

"You're Cassidy's soulmate?" A shorter man made his way past his friends, looking up at Chuck accusingly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Jack, that's Marko." The man's taller counterpart reached out to shake his and Trent's hands.

"My pony Jonathan got hit by a car on my seventh birthday and died. Chuck." He managed. He turned to Joey. "Which one's Dino-Man?"

"He couldn't make it," Joey sighed. "Lectures." Chuck nodded solemnly. Looking back, both saw their friends making their way to a table and quickly joined.

The booths at the back of the bar curved around like horseshoes and Chuck found himself stuck in the center of this one, Joey on his left and Cassidy on his right. Trent was being endearing as always, already deep in conversation, meaning he couldn't quietly grab his attention. Hazarding a glance at Cassidy, Chuck saw him leaning back in the seat, still quite pale, letting his head lie over the top. His chest rose in long, heavy breaths that Chuck definitely shouldn't have focused on so intently.

"So, you two—what's your story?" Joey asked. Both watched Cassidy for a reaction, who shifted his head in what could be insinuated to be recognition. Chuck took a deep breath.

"Well... we met about two years ago. Picture the scene: second class on Spirit Airlines. Suddenly, the lights come on and everyone's panicking—the plane's crashing. I get my life vest on but notice this guy's next to me, asleep. I start putting his vest on; we lock eyes. _Boom._ The plane hits the water, everybody drowns. We do it on the lifeboat and get rescued a couple of hours later. It's a modern love story."

Joey's chuckle turned to giggling, which turned to struggling to breathe as he reached for his drink and took a swig, nearly spilling it down his front with each new cackle.

"Or maybe we met last night," He added with a quick glance to the side. He saw the wide grin form on Cassidy's face, even as the rest of him showed no sign of life, and felt his heart seize up in his chest.

"No kidding," Joey gasped. "I know this one couple who met during their double-weddings in Vegas—Trent!" He barked across the table. "This one's good, listen up!" The group all turned to listen, but Chuck found himself getting distracted.

He watched as Cassidy, slowly, carefully, lowered his hand out of his pocket to rest gently on the seat between the two of them. From this angle, Chuck could see his eyes from behind his somewhat busted glasses. He looked tired. Chuck's heart raced just a little as he peeked back down at Cassidy's hand, just inches away from his in the darkness under the table.

He was overthinking it. He looked up at the table because he definitely wasn't thinking about Cassidy's hand.

Then, he took a sip of his water.

Then he shifted his hand slightly—wrong decision. Now he was aware of every minute movement in his hand. It was like a game of extreme chess with his own mind, one that he could only lose—and losing meant trying to hold Cassidy's hand.

He should probably be talking now, making jokes with everyone, but they seemed occupied enough. Fuck, just do it. Reach out, _what's the worst that can happen?_ But Chuck already knew.

As smooth as he could manage, he slipped his hand over Cassidy's.

Just as quickly, it wrenched out from underneath. Cassidy lurched up with a gasp, holding his hand up to his chest. Trent and the others turned, and Chuck felt the soul drain from his body as he pulled back, still trying to see what was wrong, and soon he figured it out.

In the light, he could see the bruising and swelling in Cassidy's fingers, his knuckles stained dark purple and red. He tried to flex them slightly as the pain wore away to pitiful results.

"How did you do that?" Trent asked.

"Uh..." 

"Looks fucked. Hold on," Joey leaned over Chuck to take Cassidy's hand, gently lowering it into Chuck's ice water, letting the umbrella and excess spill over the table. "There we go." Cassidy pulled a face but kept quiet. The rest of the table sat in silent concern.

Chuck caught sight of Cassidy's friend at the end of the table: short with long hair, brow furrowed.

"We should get that checked out," The boy, Marko, worried aloud.

"No, I'm fine," Cassidy assured, staring at his submerged hand.

"Are you sure?" Marko doubled down. "What if it's broken or something?"

"Sounds expensive," Chuck remarked, nearly slapping himself for such a terrible joke.

"What he said," Cassidy confirmed, looking over for a moment—no longer smiling, still utterly disarming. The concerned looks worsened, but no one else spoke up. Chuck fiddled with the paper umbrella.

"Hey Orange, remember that guy at the bar?" Trent asked, eliciting a pained smile.

"Yeah, I remember that guy."

"The guy?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah. Guy picks a fight with Orange, nearly breaks his nose, then asks him out!"

"What?" Joey squawked. "Marko, where do you find these people?"

"At gas stations."

"And you went?" Chuck wondered aloud.

"Yeah," He confirmed.

"How was it?"

"We had coffee." Cassidy shifted slightly to prop his soaked arm on the table, nothing more.

Thunder rolled overhead, even in the back the sound of the rain doubled in force.

"Jesus, what time is it?" Chuck muttered.

"Like... four-ish?" Joey said, opening his phone.

"What? It was noon a couple of minutes ago!" Marko cried.

"You took us to, like, twenty smoothie places before this." Jack reminded him.

"Three! Three smoothie places! And they were on the way here!" The two bickered back and forth as Chuck glanced over to Trent, who had a similar resignation on his face.

"We better get going," Trent finally settled on. Joey and his friend's faces fell.

"Already?" Marko asked.

"We've got groceries and junk we gotta deal with."

"Work too," Chuck added.

The group began to stand up and gather their things, Joey's gang moving their stuff to the bar as the best friends awkwardly scooted out of their seats.

"I'll bring the car around, wait here," Trent pulled on his coat and stepped out into the rain, his clothes flattened against him as the wind pressed into him.

Chuck looked back to the bar where everyone now sat. Cassidy rested against it with his right hand gripping the edge, Chuck's half-empty glass of water by him as his head moved to meet his gaze.

Chuck shifted his focus back to the window or at least tried to. Again, he felt his heart catch in his throat, became aware of his own breathing. He folded his arms across his chest to stop himself from fidgeting in hopes that he'd stop thinking about his soulmate he was about to drive away from.

No, he wasn't doing this again.

Chuck turned around, suddenly faced with Cassidy slowly walking over to him, pocketing his sunglasses.

"Can you even see in those things?" He asked.

"I was hoping to get a nap in," Cassidy confessed, leaning up by the door, just an inch too close for comfort. Both shared a soft giggle. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon."

"Yeah, me neither." Another pause. "After last time—I was worried I wouldn't see you again."

Cassidy nodded slightly. Despite himself, Chuck's hands shifted awkwardly, trying to figure out something to do. "What I'm trying to say is," He continued. "I was wondering if I could get your number?" God, he sounded so stupid. What was he, twelve? Cassidy just stared at him for a moment. Chuck took the moment in, the ghost of a smile still on his soulmate's face, still shining in his eyes.

"I don't know it." He finally said.

"You don't?"

"No. I lost my phone yesterday, so..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Chuck managed. "What happened, by the way? You're all busted up."

"My rental got stolen outside the gas station. It's okay though, I'm not getting fined or anything."

 _"Fucking what?_ And your phone was in the car?"

"Yeah, some other stuff, too. Mainly the phone."

"Fuck." Chuck sank a little. "Is your hand okay?"

"Probably." _It had been less than a day. Cassidy was still at the gas station, it couldn't have been more than an hour after he'd left..._

Any emotional capacity Chuck had left was completely drained. He let out an exhausted sigh. It took some time before he spoke again.

"You're not from around here?"

"No, I was headed back home before all this."

"Do you need a ride? Trent's pulling the car around—"

"I'm not leaving anymore," Cassidy said quickly, maybe louder than he'd wanted. "I'm, uh, staying with those guys. They live like a mile or two from here." He gestured behind him.

"Not far from us then. You met them yesterday too?"

"Yeah, Marko's pretty cool though. I could probably ask to borrow his phone later if you're cool with that," Cassidy reasoned. "You got a pen?"

"Yeah, hold on—" Chuck swiftly upended his pockets and began sifting through his jacket, finally pulling out an old ballpoint pen. Cassidy held his arm out and he hesitated a moment before taking it, trying not to panic as he gently began to write. 

Having Cassidy up against him didn't help his focus. The numbers were shaky and the ink was temperamental, with Chuck often running the end across his own palm until it started working again, but the number was eventually legible. He let go and Cassidy tucked it safely back into his jean pocket.

He tried to think of something to say, only for a car horn to grab his attention.

Without thinking, Chuck darted outside, the heavy rain already gluing his shirt to his shoulders. He opened the side door of the car, only turning around at the last second to wave goodbye, but the glass was too dark to see through. He waved anyway.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy needs some rest.

Thank god there was a bus route that passed the bar. By the time Marko and his friends needed to head back, the rain was coming down in sheets. The awning in front of the bar was barely big enough to fit him, let alone the rest of them as they waited for the bus. 

Marko looked over to Cassidy, who still didn't look so good. More than being injured, he looked ill—pale with long, heavy breaths and half-open eyes. If it were anyone else, he would have dragged them home hours ago but they'd insisted on staying and pushing through a couple of drinks.

He'd sat back down not long after Chuck left, resting most of his body weight on the bar. Marko's eyes caught his busted hand again, before a sore-looking phone number scribbled on his arm.

"Hey, is that Chuck's?" He asked. Cassidy exhaled—almost making a noise in the back of his throat, but not quite. Marko took that as a yes.

"Oooooh! Someone has a cru-ush!" He'd teased, to no response. Looking at the faded expression, he decided not to push it.

Outside, he looked over again. The edge of the awning dripped with water, dribbling down Cassidy's shirt and running over his hair. He had his jacket wrapped up in his arms— _no,_ Marko realized. He had his arm wrapped up in his jacket.

Jack tried to splash Joey, only for the water to roll off of his technicolor coat.

"Suck it, Jungle Boy!" Joey cried, pushing him into the street, shoes pooling with runoff water.

"Dammit."

"That's what you get!"

The thunderous sound of poorly kept public transportation roared across the street, and despite Jack's best attempt to get out of the way, the lake now forming at the edges of the road sprayed up and over him as the bus came to a rest.

Each hopped on, taking what seats they could. Marko sat down beside Cassidy, who finally slipped his jacket back on, letting his head rest on the window. It couldn't be more than two stops until they got off, but he could feel his eyes falling shut against his will. The dark sky paired with the low yellow lights of the bus didn't help.

When the bus rolled up to their street, they stumbled out and up the stairs to their apartment. Jack and Marko collapsed onto the couch. Joey rummaged through the fridge.

"Got any beer?" He asked absently.

"We _just_ left the bar," Jack groaned. "There's a couple of cokes, 'might be some orange juice."

"Where's Cassidy?" Marko pulled himself onto his ass again, Jack booting up the PlayStation beside him.

"Bathroom, maybe."

"That's a nasty concussion he's got," Joey cracked open a soda with a clean snap. "'Probably being sick."

"A concussion? I thought he had the flu or something," Marko said.

"Are you kidding? The guy can hardly see straight. I thought you said you picked him up at the gas station, not a fistfight."

"He got mugged, some dude took his car."

"Wait, I thought he and Chuck met last night?"

"They did," Marko confirmed.

"So you met Chuck?"

"No."

"Fuck it, this is too complicated for me," Joey sat down in the middle of the couch, picking up a controller.

The sound of the toilet flushing and the bathroom door opening made their conversation go quiet, as Cassidy walked into the living room. Barely looking at the full couch, he sat down beneath Marko on the floor.

"Can I borrow your phone?" He asked quietly once the other two were invested in their game.

"Yeah, why?"

"Chuck wanted to text me." _And Cassidy lost his with the car._ Marko winced.

"Okay, but don't text anything gross," He said finally.

"No promises." Cassidy gave a half-hearted eyebrow raise as he slowly leaned over to take the phone from Marko. He began to type:

_Hey_

_Hello?_

_Its cassidy_

_Hey! This is Marko's phone right?_

_Yeah_

_Whats's up_

_Not much. Getting ready for work_

_You?_

_Don't feel well_

_That sucks._

Marko tried not to be conspicuous as he watched over Cassidy's shoulder. Chuck responded quickly to each tiny comment, but Cassidy seemed to struggle with typing anything at all, wincing at the screen with shallow breathing. He was a mess.

The more Marko thought about it, the more obvious his concussion became. The shaky events of the morning came flooding back, as did the robbery, Cassidy's head bouncing off the concrete.

As if on cue, Cassidy pressed further into the front of the couch, resting the weight of his head on the seat. His hand, still gripping the phone, fell to his side.

"Do you want some water?" Marko asked. Cassidy attempted to turn his head, before settling for a half-assed thumbs up.

Gently, so as not to move him, Marko got up and went to the bathroom, grabbing some Advil. After soaking a hand towel in cold water, he went to fill a glass at the sink. By the time he returned, Jack and Joey were no longer focused on their game.

"You could've just said you were hurt, we wouldn't have made you go," Marko told him, placing the cloth on his forehead.

"I was being rude," Cassidy managed, clearly in over his head. "'Didn't wanna say no when you were so nice."

"You know what's not nice? Vomiting," Said Joey over his shoulder. At the mention of the word Cassidy groaned in discomfort.

"C'mon, take these." With the Advil down, Marko sat down beside him with water in hand.

"Head hurts." Cassidy almost whispered.

"I know," He replied, barely patting him on the shoulder.

A notification pinged, and he reached for his phone in his pocket, only to see Cassidy pull it up first. He looked at the banner before handing it over. Another text from Chuck. Another question.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Covering Drew's shift was a terrible idea.

"Why do you call him Orange?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Trent mindlessly strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Oh yeah, it was how he kept getting orange drinks."

"What, like shitty margaritas?"

"Yeah, there was some sale at the bar so he just bought those all night." The mental image made Chuck giggle. It was strange imagining the quiet guy he'd met laughing and joking around so freely. Guess that showed how little he knew him. 

* * *

_Can your soulmate be wrong?_

It was the stupidest thing to google. Chuck hadn't searched for it in years, but the rising fear he felt standing at the gas station counter only got worse and worse with every passing second. He couldn't even decide what he was feeling—one minute he was desperate to see Cassidy, the next he couldn't stand the thought of him. It made his head hurt.

The results hadn't changed much since he first miserably searched the question in high school. _You may not get along with your soulmate when you first meet, you may want to spend some time apart but you are each other's perfect matches. God doesn't play games with the universe._ Chuck frowned.

The God thing had always rubbed him the wrong way. He had nothing against religion, but what made everyone think soulmates were the work of God? Why wouldn't he have made humans with them from the beginning? He'd always been told God didn't meddle with earthly affairs, so why was God so invested in ruining his life? He sighed, this was why he didn't take philosophy in school.

Regardless, those answers weren't helping. He tried again:

_What to do if your soulmate hates you?_

He should have just stayed with Cassidy. He should have ditched work. He could have bought him a drink, waited out the rain. Staring out at the linoleum aisles made the idea seem outlandish—so did the pit in his stomach.

Chuck flipped over from google to messenger to stare at the pathetic texts he'd sent.

_That sucks._ The guy's hurt and all Chuck could come up with was _t_ _hat sucks?_ It was probably for the better that he didn't stay behind and keep him at the bar. On the other hand, Cassidy didn't look like he was leaving any time soon when Chuck left. He kept on leaving too soon, didn't he? Each thing he could have done or should have said ran through his head, only making him feel worse and worse. None of it mattered now; he left and Cassidy got hurt.

It was laughable how excited he got when that first text came through. He was pinning on his name tag when the _ping_ of a notification rang out from his purposefully charged phone. It was like everything around him stopped. Chuck felt simultaneously giddy and sick as he opened the message. _Hey,_ it read.

Even now, wallowing in his own misery, he kept sneaking glances down at his screen. Left on read, nearly half an hour later, he kept on hoping for a response.

_Do you want to hang out sometime?_

To be perfectly honest it was a stupid question. Cassidy was sick (or maybe just sick of him). Still, he knew that if he didn't ask he probably never would. It was one of those questions that felt so right in your heart but so wrong in practice. He'd already forced his soulmate to get in contact with him despite not having a phone, and now he wanted to waste even more of his time? And then, surely, something would go wrong. Something would go wrong and he'd run away again. He'd fall asleep on the couch and miss work and get chewed out by Trent again.

The door chimed and Chuck looked up to greet them. He didn't have to look too far up, to be fair. Marko locked eyes with him as he did.

Because of course it was Marko. Chuck never really had a say in this, did he?

To his credit, he didn't try to make a scene—quickly turning down an aisle and out of view. Still, Chuck's soul fell straight out of his body. He tried to come up with anything to say once Marko came to the counter, but what was there to say? _Hey, how's your roommate/my soulmate doing with the whole 'getting violently mugged' situation?_ It didn't exactly roll off the tongue.

Marko arrived at the counter and put down his stuff. Some snacks, energy drinks, pain meds... _pain meds._

"This makes a lot of sense, actually," He said, startling Chuck out of his own thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You. Working here. Cassidy said he knew the guy. You can't convict me for stealing any candy though, I've eaten all the evidence."

"Oh. Fair enough," Chuck managed, barely letting a smile shine through as he rang Marko up. "How's Cassidy doing?"

"Bad." Marko's bluntness threw him a little. "I figure it's a concussion. He's got a headache and he's all nauseous. It'll clear up in a week or so."

"Yeah..." Now what? Chuck panicked as he ran out of filler conversation material.

"You're gonna come see him, right?" The other asked seriously.

"O-of course?" 

"Good! I was worried I'd have to convince you," Marko smiled, letting out a relieved sigh. 

"What?"

"Don't worry about it. Just don't do anything gross in Jack's room—he's mad enough with so many people staying over!" Chuck's head was swimming as Marko shoved what he could into his pockets.

"Wait, what? When?" He asked, flustered.

"I dunno, when are you free?"

"Uhh... tomorrow?" He blabbered.

"Great! See you then—bring snacks!" Marko practically sprinted to the door and out into the parking lot, barely hiding a self-satisfied smirk. Chuck felt the heat rising in his face. He'd been played like a fiddle.

_Tomorrow. Cassidy. Nothing gross._ How did this keep happening?


End file.
